


Soft

by Ruriska



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drunk Genji, Fluff, Gift, Incest, M/M, Shimadacest, Shimadacest Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 22:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: Genji returns home after another wild night out and Hanzo is there to take care of him.





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> My second fic for the Shimadacest Exchange for my **anonymous friend** and everyone who has said a kind word to me and praised my writing and sent me asks or reblogged or liked my stuff. Every tiny thing makes me so grateful and happy and blessed to be part of this fandom. It's all of you who inspire me to write the next fic and then more and more and more! 8D

Hanzo wakes suddenly.

His senses scramble, mind desperately trying to work out what woke him. His ears and eyes strain in the darkness, while his body remains rigid beneath the warm blankets. Eventually he starts to think he has imagined it, that there is nothing to worry about, when he hears the sound that roused him from his sleep. 

The kitchen cupboard opening and closing, whining on its hinges. It needs oil. That was supposed to be Genji’s job.

If someone is trying to rob the apartment, all they will find in that cupboard is bowls.

He regrets leaving the bed as soon as he has pulled the covers off and he takes the time to place the blankets back, piling a few pillows on top to conserve the heat. It is a cold night. If he had bothered to turn the light on, he is certain he would see his breath in a white plume.

He pads his way cautiously to the kitchen, goosebumps on his arms and his toes already feeling numb from the cold. There is no surprise when he slowly rounds the doorway and finds his brother there, sitting at the table, his hands cradling a bowl. His green hair is a wild mess, his cheeks are flushed and at some point somebody has drawn a dick on his cheek with a red marker. 

“Genji,” Hanzo says, exasperated.

Genji looks up at him through unfocused eyes, frowns and works his lips with his teeth for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I just wanted cereal.” He sounds so despondent as his gaze drops to the bowl, the empty bowl. “Where did it go?” 

Hanzo takes two steps into the room and he smells the overwhelming stench of alcohol rolling off his brother. His nose crinkles in disgust. Genji is very drunk. “You can have cereal in the morning,” he tells him. “Come here.” 

He comes to a stop next to Genji’s seat and holds out his hand in offering.

Genji’s face breaks into a grin, his eyes crinkle around the edges. Then he lifts his arms like a child waiting to be picked up. Hanzo used to be able to do exactly that. Now his brother is far too big. Too much muscle. It’s usually Genji picking him up these days. 

“Ha-an-zo-zo,” Genji singsongs, fingers wriggling.

Hanzo grabs both of his hands and uses his foot to push the chair sideways, away from the table. It scrapes loudly across the floor. Genji laughs. Much to his annoyance, when Hanzo tries to pull his pull his brother up, Genji suddenly becomes a dead weight. He nearly slides off the chair in the process and it’s only Hanzo’s grip that is keeping him from hitting the floor. 

Genji ends up there anyway, eased down to his knees, head tilted up, eyes bright and shiny lips parted.

“Genji, please,” Hanzo begs.

His brother tips forward into Hanzo’s legs, wraps his arms around him and hugs him. Despite the cold still leeching into his bones, it is a nice feeling. Genji turns his head, looks up at him with such adoration that Hanzo’s knees start to feel a bit weak.

With tender care, he cards his fingers through his brother’s hair and Genji’s eyes drift closed.

“Missed you,” Genji murmurs into Hanzo’s belly. 

“I always miss you when you’re not beside me.” Hanzo isn’t sure where the words come from. It must be Genji’s vulnerability that allows them to be free, spoken into the kitchen during the early hours of the morning, frost on the window and his brother warm against his legs. 

Genji hums with pleasure as Hanzo continues to run his fingers through his hair. Despite the dyes, his hair has always been baby soft. 

“Brother,” Hanzo murmurs, hardly wanting to break the moment but they can’t stay there forever, “time for bed.”

\---

Genji barely makes it to the bathroom.

Instinct has him up and out of the bed before he’s fully conscious, nearly stumbling headfirst into the wall, blinded by the sudden sharp stab of pain in his temples. The world swims but he makes it in time, crashing to his knees in front of the toilet and burying his face in the bowl as the remains of last nights revelries return. 

There is a world of regret for him to consider but right now his main focus is the pain and churning of his gut. He hopes whatever party he went to was worth it because he can barely remember a thing.

There was a girl, a cake, or maybe the girl was a stripper, lots of alcohol, a fountain, and far too many jello shots. Genji can still taste the lime flavouring in the back of his throat. It makes him gag again just thinking about it.

When the worst of it has come up, he inches back and presses his forehead against the cold marble floor. He reeks, everything reeks. He is shivering but he is uncomfortably hot. His stomach aches. 

“I take it you don’t want any cereal,” Hanzo says from somewhere behind him.

Genji groans.

“Don’t,” he warns weakly. Any mention of food will have him heaving up bile. 

“Sorry.” At least Hanzo sounds contrite.

Footsteps move closer and a blessedly cold hand touches the back of his neck.

“You should know better by now,” Hanzo chides but his words carry little weight as his rubs soothing circles into Genji’s skin. When the hand leaves him, Genji allows himself a sad whine in hopes of its return.

Instead he listens as Hanzo turns the sink on.

There’s only a brief wait before Hanzo is beside him once more, easing him upright, letting Genji rest against him as he wipes his mouth clean with a wet cloth. A long time ago this would have been chocolate sauce or honey, then in highschool it had been blood from getting into fights, now it was vomit and saliva from his own poor choices. 

Hanzo’s hands are soft where they hold him, his touch is a balm.

His presence eases the pounding in Genji’s head, makes it a secondary concern when he has Hanzo’s touch to focus on. 

“Love you,” Genji tells him.

Hanzo kisses the top of his head.

“I always miss you too,” Genji adds.

Because he remembers that. Of all the things that happened last night. Despite all the alcohol. That is something he could never forget.

Hanzo rubs his neck and shoulders and his soft caress is all the reply Genji needs.


End file.
